Sterek Ficlets
by MidoriEyes
Summary: A collection of short sterek fics I've been writing in response to prompts, from normal!verse to AU to established relationship and so on. Enjoy!
1. Breakfast-domesticAU

Taut little blueberries rained down on the pancake mix and sat on top like fruity gems. The surface tension eventually gave way so that the berries would sink, but Stiles sped up the process by diving into the gooey batter with a large whisk, churning the ingredients in a slow, methodical manner. He hummed a tune that his mother used to sing while stirring pancake mix, which originally derived from the cook her family had when she was young. Stiles couldn't tell you why, but it always seemed to get him in the lazy Saturday morning mood.

"Having fun over there?" Derek asked while coating his frying pan with a transparent layer of butter for the sausages he was about to throw on.

"Sure am! And I don't care if you're gluten-free or whatever that religion is called - you are going to eat these pancakes and you are going to like them."

The alpha snorted. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"Of course! The Stilinski family pancake recipe has been passed down and perfected for at least three, no, **five** generations. I'd wake up, say hello to the handsome young lad in the mirror, turn on Ninja Turtles, and have a huge stack of them every weekend morning topped with syrup, powdered sugar, and Reeses peanut butter cups."

"And your parents wonder how you developed such terrible ADHD?"

"Hey, sugar doesn't cause Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, that's just a dirty old wive's tale." Stiles lifted his whisk, saturated with the creamy batter, and let it ooze until there wasn't so much residue left on the utensil. He then cradled the mixing bowl in his hands and went to situate himself on the counter next to the stove where Derek was working.

The werewolf picked up one of the pale, plump sausages and let it settle in the pan. A delicious tune of pops and sizzles filled the kitchen, nearly startling their Maine Coon, Xavier. Derek wasn't a huge fan of cats, but this guy was so chillaxed and low maintenance that he hardly noticed it was there.

As Stiles waited for their pancake grill to heat up, he watched the grease sputter underneath their sausages like tiny sparklers, followed by the hand pushing them around with a spatula for an even cook. His eyes trailed up Derek's arm to the rest of his unclothed form, save for a mouthwateringly tight pair of white underpants that reached mid-thigh. Even when making breakfast, that body never quit. It was even more tantalizing that working over a hot stove had created a fine sheen of sweat on the older man's tanned skin. Stiles' Saturday morning entertainment sure had changed since he was eight years old.

Derek noticed the boy staring at him and grabbed the cooking spray on his left. "Do you need this?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Thanks." Stiles licks his lips of the drool that had accumulated and took the can, making sure the oil covered a majority of their grill. He carefully applied the batter in medium-sized dollops, adding in a couple extra blueberries if one pancake didn't seem to have enough, and set the bowl down to wait for this first batch to… bake? Fry? How would one classify the way pancakes are made? It was pretty much a fried cake, but the texture and taste felt like it had been baked. Then again, he was using a _grill_ to make these…

Derek had successfully browned all four sausages to perfection and scooped them out onto a plate to cool for a few minutes, moving the still searing hot pan onto the far burner so no one would accidentally touch it. He double-taked when he saw Stiles having one of his internal existential discussions with himself, which probably wasn't all that existential to begin with. The boy was chewing on his lip and had one hand rubbing his chin as if he were trying to solve calculus in his head, although the little genius accomplished this at school all the time. Derek's gaze was snagged by those two distinct moles that sat where the curve of his jaw met his neck. Ever since they had established their feelings for one another and gained a certain level of physicality, moles had become a bit of a turn on for Derek, and this morning they looked especially erotic.

The werewolf leaned down, molded his mouth over the two dark spots, and laved his tongue across them. Stiles, who had been pouring another pool of batter for their second round, jumped from the sudden contact and ended up putting a little too much on the grill. That would be one mega pancake.

"Derek!" he gasped, righting the bowl and setting it aside haphazardly. "Dude, if I had dropped that-"

"But you didn't," Derek cooed, clamping onto his neck again with more force this time, hands snaking their way around the younger man's waist in the process.

"Well give me a little w-warning next time, yeah?" He was having a tough time keeping himself from sighing into a puddle just like his pancakes.

"It's not as fun that way."

"For _you_… ohh…" Damn those talented hands! They knew every place where Stiles was most sensitive. And that tongue..! Blood gathered beneath the skin where Derek was softly sucking, but most of it started rushing down towards a more _responsive_ area. Good thing he was wearing one of the alpha's long button-up's, despite the self-pitching tent that was forming at the base. "Dammit, Derek! My pancakes are gonna burn!"

"Then flip them over," he murmured while taking his treatment to the boy's ear, receiving a squirm in response.

"I can't when you're fastened to me like this!"

"Oh fine." Derek grunted and ceased in his seduction. Keeping one arm wrapped around his love, he grabbed the spatula and began turning the pancakes over with Stiles nestled against his torso. Golden brown, just like Stiles remembered.

"You are such a stubborn asshole sometimes, you know that?" The shorter man chuckled, lightly elbowing Derek in the ribs.

"Look who's talking." He smiled and kissed the bed-head fluff that Stiles woke up with earlier, keeping his mouth close as he whispered, "But don't think you're off the hook yet, Stilinski~"


	2. hurt-Stiles

Derek felt the burning in his legs as he ran, but he didn't fumble, didn't slow down in the slightest as he weaved through the trees of the Beacon Hills Preserve. You'd think it'd be difficult to do so while carrying another person in your arms, but Stiles weighed as much as a bag of feathers thanks to the adrenaline rocketing throughout the alpha. Or maybe it was because of the fowl, dark mass that had been expelled from the young boy's body not but five minutes ago.

That damn demon… As soon as it had sunk the gleaming blade into it's own, or in this case Stiles', stomach, Derek screamed. In actuality, the werewolf had let out a strangled gasp, but everything on the inside felt like it was being ripped to shreds. He wondered briefly if that's what Stiles was experiencing while being possessed by that putrid, unholy offspring of Satan. The image was still so vivid in his mind - a twisted column of smoke spewing from the seventeen year old's lips like a polluted geyser, the black in those evil eyes being sucked right out along with it. Derek half expected some sort of color to return to Stiles' face after being free from that creature's vice, but the knife wound denied him of that relief. Blood was rushing towards the opening, and it wasn't going to stop just because the alpha made good time to Deaton's veterinarian center.

"Gguh…"

A choked gargle came from the teenager in his arms. He was still conscious, at least for now. It'd been so long since Derek had seen Stiles, the _true _Stiles, through those familiar chocolate brown eyes, but he couldn't break his stride now. All he could do was what Stiles did best - talk.

"Stiles! Stiles, it's me, Derek. Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me..."

"I…" the boy started in a hoarse voice as if he hadn't used it for days, which technically _he_ hadn't. "I feel so… tired…"

"No no no, talk to me! You gotta stay awake, just look at my face."

The younger man winced from his injury before speaking again. "I f-feel pretty okay, actually, heh heh… That thing… is it gone?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he's gone." Hopefully for good.

"I'm sorry… for all the things I… did." It was getting increasingly harder for Stiles to breath normally at this point, but he pushed through his words as best he could. "I-I… hurt you…"

"It's okay, Stiles. That wasn't you back then. You're alright now. We're gonna fix you up."

"Derek…."

The alpha waited to hear what else Stiles had to say, but a quick glance to the boy's face showed that he'd passed out again. "Stiles! No, you gotta hang on, don't go dying on me, you little asshole!"

It was practically midnight, so no one saw Derek break the glass to the Vet's front doors and slip his way inside like a madman. Luckily there hadn't been an alarm. The last thing he wanted were the police to swarm this place and keep him from making sure Stiles would live through this.

"DEATON!"

He didn't need to call the doctor's name. The smell of anesthetics and latex gloves led him straight to the man, who had been sorting through some files until he heard Derek's desperate cry. He took one look at the alpha and another at Stiles' limp form, noticing a dark red stain on the boy's shirt that kept blooming through the threads of fabric.

"Please. Help him."

Deaton didn't need to be told twice.

A week later, it seemed Stiles had made a healthy recovery at Beacon Hills Memorial. After Deaton had cleaned and sewed up his wound as good as any veterinarian could, he was immediately driven to the hospital for the care he couldn't have received at an animal clinic. At Derek's protest, the doctor had asked he stay behind since he was still a wanted criminal and could possibly be recognized. "Don't worry, he's stable now", is what Deaton had said nearly fifty times to calm the werewolf down. It wasn't so much that he wasn't sure Stiles was going to live, but that after months of being trapped inside his own body by that god forsaken demon, and being put through who knows what else… Derek felt like he had to be there for him. He _needed _to.

And for some reason, it didn't surprise Stiles when he found the grumpy ol' werewolf sitting in a clanky chair next to his hospital bed. The awkward tension was enough to get them talking, whether it was about the pack, Stiles' condition, the demon… It was difficult for Stiles to breach that particular subject. After all, he'd shut down every so often during his possession, but the rest of the time he'd been awake always happened to be when he'd hurt those around him, as if the demon had woken him up just for the occasion. They were hard memories to bear.

The fact that it was finally all over was rather surreal. Stiles asked Derek questions no one could possibly have a sure answer for, such as "will the demon come back", or "is there a way to stop it from happening again". Apparently, Deaton knew a little on the subject of demons and said he'd look more into this occurrence while everyone was recovering. It put the teenager at ease, if only a bit.

"Derek…" Stiles began, crinkling the sheets between his hands as he spoke. "Thanks for being there. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't exorcised that thing. How did you know that would get rid of it?"

"My uncle told me. He's run into some demons before and had to deal with them, or at least that's what he said. But he knew how to pull them from their host." The older man looked down at Stiles' abdomen, which was bandaged and draped with the standard hospital gown. "I just wish I'd gotten there sooner so…"

Stiles stopped him before he could start. "Don't. You saved my life, man. Even I didn't know the thing had a knife on him, er, _me_. The doctor said it didn't hit anything vital, so that's good, right?"

"Mm.."

Derek was still deep in his spiral of self pity for not doing this or that or whatever else he couldn't have possibly predicted would happen anyway, so Stiles turned the conversation around. "I was scared," he said softly. "I was scared that I'd never be normal again. That the demon would never leave. That I'd… that it would keep hurting you…"

Derek sat up a little straighter in his seat at the reference to _those _times, when Stiles became so distant, so cruel in his words that the alpha had sensed something was wrong as soon as he'd been denied the simple everyday gesture of a kiss between two lovers. Touching the boy in any way, shape, or form had become taboo, and it left Derek feeling more empty than he'd been in years.

"You don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Oh yeah? How do we know the demon is done with me? What if I'm just part of his sick little game, and the moment I start getting close to my friends or my dad or you, he rears his ugly head and ends up slaughtering half of Beacon Hills? What then?" He asked, the full force of his anger held back by the stitches in his side.

"You'll be fine because I'm here, and I'm not letting it take you away from me again."

Well. That was certainly poetic, and very unlike Derek Hale, to be honest. Stiles felt a heat in his chest rise up to inflame his face, like a teapot whistling on the stove. Of course, he too had missed the alpha terribly during his mental hiatus. If they weren't in a public setting then perhaps their reuniting would go a bit differently…

The teen smiled for the first time in what seemed like years, and laughed. "How the heck am I supposed to respond to that?"

"You don't." Derek reached out and took hold of the boy's hand, his eyes hardened with as much fervor as he put into his words of promise. "Just stay with me."

The rest of the pack came to visit that day and get the full story on what happened, but once they saw Derek and Stiles cozied up on the hospital bed together like two tangled sloths, it was decided that their visit could wait another hour or two.


	3. ConstructionAU

It was a muggy 95 degrees outside this afternoon, a construction worker's worst nightmare. There was no relief from the building's would-be shadow since it was in the early stages of development and consisted only of large towering beams making up the infrastructure. The single source of shade was a white tarp tent that had been set up for taking lunch breaks or cooling off in general, and even that was a bit stuffy. And of course the porta-potties were never an option. Who in their right mind would want to smell the stagnation of their own waste on a boiling hot day like this?

But the show must go on, as they say, and no amount of heat was going to stop Derek Hale from doing his job. He was the youngest member of their crew and had a knack for getting things done. Those powerhouse arms and overall fit physique were perfect for this kind of industry, and that matching handsome face never failed to attract a couple pedestrians of the female variety walking by every now and then, along with one other odd spectator. A young, what looked to be high school boy who Derek had been seeing almost every day for the past month, just standing outside the chain link fence like a puppy in one of those animal rescue commercials. Even under the beating rays of the sun, this kid was still wearing that same red hoodie as always. How could he stand it? Derek would've drenched the thing in sweat in a matter of seconds. Then again, he was doing hard manual labor, and the teenager simply planted himself in that spot for at least an hour, and would walk off when he felt he'd accomplished whatever he came here to do, which was staring at Derek half the time.

Stiles Stilinski was his name, but no one on the other side of the fence knew that. He was just a boy of seventeen, straight A student, lacrosse player, and all around funny guy, at least with his friends. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about him. He had dreams and plans for the future like anyone else his age, and his father couldn't be more proud. So why was he creeping outside this construction site like some kind of convicted felon and crushing on some older guy whom he's never spoken a word to in his life? Did he mention it was a guy? Of course not, after all it's not like he had gone and told the world of his feelings for this man. But hey, Stiles had always been a little bi-curious, to be honest. The real problem was the age difference. The construction worker looked to be about in his twenties, but ever since Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift entered the scene Stiles was never sure of peoples' actual age anymore. This guy could be forty for all he knew, but that sculpted jaw, the smooth bronzed skin shimmering with beads of sweat, that rockin' bod… On second thought, who cares how old he was?

Stiles watched as the worker bent over to help lift up one side of a beam and carry it to another end of the site. From there he fastened a steel wire around it and gave the 'ok' for their heavy duty crane equipment to take it away. The older man yanked a red bandana out of his pocket and wiped the pearls of sweat off his forehead, eyes squinting under the brightness of the day. It's like he was straight out of a superhero comic book. Now if only this admiration Stiles had was more on the "you're so cool and I really look up to you as a role model" side instead of the "you're so cool and I kinda wanna rub my naked body all over you" side.

As soon as dirty thoughts started seeping their way into the teenager's mind, eye contact was made. It was so sudden that Stiles' response to the situation was delayed, and he jumped hard enough to expelll the soul from his body. They held each others' gaze for what seemed like an eternity, although the high schooler looked like he was about to wet himself on the spot. This was the first time Derek had truly acknowledged his little stalker's presence, and how amusing it was. He wanted a bigger reaction.

Derek made his way over to the fence, deciding that he'd take his five o'clock break a little early today. The wider little red riding hood's eyes got as he approached, the more Derek wanted to laugh, but he refrained. Didn't want to scare the poor thing off, did he? The worker eased to a stop and got a good look at the boy before breaking into some sort of dialogue. At a close distance, this kid seemed to be around sixteen or seventeen, _maybe _eighteen. Under that hoodie he could see a smidgen of brown locks that went along with the color of his eyes, and a light speckling of moles around his face and neck. All in all, he wasn't too bad looking, especially with that hint of pink dusted across his nose.

"Hi," Derek said in a friendly voice.

And that was the last time he saw his hooded companion… until the next day, naturally. Except this time he'd actually get the boy to say "hi" back.


	4. possessive-Derek

"Stiles, remind me again why we're here?" Derek asked while staring in disgust at the pulsing throng of club-goers that were illuminated every few seconds by multi-colored neon lights. How in the world did he even get talked into coming here? Oh right. Blow jobs. Only by the end of the night would Derek be able to say whether this was all worth it or not.

Stiles stood on his tippy toes as if he was looking for someone. "It's Latrice's birthday!"

_"Latrice?" _Who the fu..?

"Yeah, she's someone I met here with Scott a while back when we were tracking down the Kamina."

"So we're going to a birthday of some girl you only met once?"

"No, dude! We're Skype buddies!"

"Uhh like I said. Only met _once._"

"Oh come on, you big whiner. Food and drinks are on the house tonight!" The eighteen year old grabbed Derek's arm and dragged him over to the bar area, hoping to see Latrice there. "Besides, it's not fun to come to these things by yourself."

"I can't imagine why."

Stiles ignored the alpha's grumpiness and spotted the bartender, Eduardo. "Hey, is Latrice here?"

"You mean the birthday girl?" he responded, the volume at which he was smacking his gum almost as loud as the club music. Derek hadn't realized it was a pet peeve of his until Stiles pointed it out one day. "She's over by the couches. You friends of her's?"

"Yeah, I'm Stiles and this is my boyfriend, Derek."

"Oh?" The bartender's eyes locked onto the older man's stubbled face and slid down every contour of his body, a sleazy smile forming on those highly glossed lips. "Lucky you~"

Derek shivered.

"Thanks, Ed!" Stiles hadn't even noticed the visual molestation taking place and continued pulling Derek through the human swarm. They eventually made it to the lounge area where Latrice was sitting pretty and surrounded by fellow drag queens. This threw the alpha for a loop, thinking that this "Latrice" was going to be a cute young girl of sorts, but what did he expect in a place like this? The queen screeched when she saw Stiles and stood up to give him a big 'welcome back' hug, the pink feather boa tickling his nose. He was dressed in an outfit that resembled attributes of a flamingo, complete with crazy feather hat and an orange beak sticking out like a bill. Looks were deceiving with this delicate drag, however, as she lifted the boy up and nearly squeezed all the air out of his lungs. Derek took a step back, hoping he wouldn't get the same greeting.

They chatted for a minute while the werewolf tried to look anywhere but the other drag queens who were also dressed up as different animals and giving him 'come hither' stares out the wazoo. Derek never thought he was unfortunate in the department of looks, and the occasional flirting he received on the streets was nothing new, but this was just making him uncomfortable. One of the queens in tiger garb bit the air at him, which took on a whole new level of scary for Derek. Without warning, Stiles brushed past him and headed back towards the bar again.

"Hey, wha-"

"I'm gonna get us some drinks!" the younger man called out over the roaring music, already being sucked into the crowd's clutches.

Great. Now he was alone. And, of course, that meant Latrice could just walk right up to him and slink an arm around the guy's shoulders.

"Soooo~ You're the new boy toy I've heard so much about?" Derek simply side glanced the queen and kept his mouth shut, which only invited Latrice to keep talking. "I gotta admit, that kid's got fabulous taste, but he certainly wasn't lying when it comes to your lack of manners, Derek" she teased.

She knew his name. Perfect.

"Well, any guy of Stiles' is welcome at my club. Relax, have a good time, and don't be afraid to let out your inner animal tonight."

_'Dude, you couldn't handle my inner animal,' _he thought to himself. As soon as Stiles came back with their drinks, they were going home. He'd had enough of this place. Dance clubs with a bunch of senseless, be-dazzled drunkards raving to grossly repetitive techno-pop weren't exactly his scene.

Speaking of which, where was the little bugger who brought him to this den of sweat in the first place? Derek craned his head from side to side, trying to spot the kid by his fitted grey t-shirt with red stripes down the side. He scanned the bar from one end to the next and almost didn't see him behind this big, burly dude with spiked bleached hair who was leaning in so close it looked like he was about to perform CPR on someone who didn't need saving. Must've been drunk. Regardless, Derek wasn't liking how familiar this guy was being with Stiles. Blondie set an elbow on the table and gave a grin that was anything other than friendly, while the eighteen year old hesitantly nodded at whatever the man was saying and kept scooting away, clearly not interested in continuing a conversation. What the hell was with this goon?

"Ugh. When did _he_ show up?" Latrice scoffed, curling her lip in disdain at the same guy Derek was currently glaring at.

"You know him?" The alpha asked in a low voice.

"Unfortunately, yes. He was kicked out last week for starting a bar brawl with his meathead buddies. They were banned from coming back, but this one's loaded so it's harder to scrape him off my shoe, the little terd."

"Hm," Derek grunted, his body becoming increasingly tense as McSuave kept trying to make lewd physical contact with Stiles. Latrice felt the ferocity under those well toned shoulders of his and decided to be a little naughty…

"Looks like he's moving in on your honey. He always did go for the small, cute type. And if I know Fido over there, he won't stop until he gets what he wants. He'll be chasing that tail alllllll night long."

"Like hell he will," The alpha growled, making his way over there at that moment.

Meanwhile, Stiles was really wishing he'd brought Derek along to the bar with him. He didn't think a plain guy like him would get hit on so suddenly, especially not by Mr. Macho here. The bartender was certainly taking his sweet time with those drinks. At this rate, Stiles would have to make a run for it. Everything was free tonight, after all. He could come back later when the coast was clear.

"Look, pal, I gotta go. There's people waiting for me… or something…" The curse of being a terrible liar.

"Aw, c'mon! I'm more fun than anyone you're gonna meet in this trash heap. We can go back to my place later and have a _real _party," he slurred suggestively.

"No thanks, man. I'm good." Stiles tried inching his way around the wall of muscle but was stopped by one of those Hulk-sized hands clamping down on his arm. _'Shit.'_

"Look, babe, I'm not really used to people saying 'no' to me, okay?" He smirked as if that bit of information would automatically change Stiles' mind.

"Hey, I guess I just did, so could you move, maybe? I'm not interested, alright," he replied more assertively this time and pushed to get away. This resulted in getting slammed back against the bar counter with more force than was necessary, startling Stiles enough to almost fall over. "Um, ow?"

The blonde's grip tightened as he snarled in Stiles' face, "I'm asking you nicely, ya little twink."

_**"Well, I won't."**_

Fido turned around to see where this new voice came from and was met with a swift punch to the face, causing him to fly back into a surprised group of dancers.

"Oh my god," Stiles yelped. He was NOT expecting that. Granted, the guy deserved it, but wow! Derek didn't normally lose his cool so quickly.

The alpha popped his neck and turned to his lover, gently placing the same hand he'd used to sock blondie in the nose with on the boy's upper arm. "You okay?"

"Uhhh, yeah. I'm fine, dude. Are _you _okay?!" He let out a curt laugh. Were they in a romantic comedy or something?

"I will be once we get out of here," Derek said, taking one look at the bloody-nosed buffoon who'd lost consciousness from the blow, as he should've. A flock of the club-goers inspected the scene with slight disinterest. They figured this oaf had it coming.

"Jeeze, I almost feel sorry for the guy now, haha! You need to keep that werewolf strength in check, man. Of course, with tonight's jungle theme I guess you'd fit right in, huh?"

"Can we not?" Derek moaned, not wanting the image of him all wolfed out on the dance floor in his or the boy's mind.

"Alright, alright, we'll go. Just let me say goodbye to Latrice first."

Derek wasn't given time to respond as Stiles ran over to where the drag queen was, her face lit up with amusement at what she had just witnessed. They hugged, whispered something to each other while sparing a couple glances Derek's way, and said their farewells until next time. The younger man caught up with his boyfriend at the door and intertwined their hands on their walk through the parking lot.

"What were you two gossiping about just now?" Derek asked, trying not to come off as too curious (which he was.)

"Nothing you need to know about," the boy said playfully. He loved ruffling Derek's feathers.

"Fine. I'll get it out of you when we get home." Only Stiles knew the difference between Derek's dry, every day dialogue, and his sexual advances.

"Ohhh I don't think so. Something tells me I'm not gonna be doing any talking with what you have planned for me."

The alpha snorted, allowing a tiny grin to appear. "Damn right."

It would be a night to remember.


	5. squirrel-Stiles

Stiles Squirrelinski lived a simple life. He had his own comfy hollow in a big acorn tree high enough to keep predators out, a charming view of Beacon Hills nestled in the valley near his home, and a plethora of nuts littering the forest floor for an all-you-can-eat buffet that could last him three hibernations.

However, he'd been running out of the supply he kept in his tree for snacking (the rest of the acorns were buried deep within the loamy ground at the base of his home), so it was time for another afternoon scavenge of the tasty, crunchy morsels.

The weather was getting cooler, but not uncomfortably so. Autumn had barely just peaked its head around the corner, which was good news for most squirrels seeing as pretty soon they wouldn't have to climb the trees to get their nuts. Of course that also meant you had to sniff them out amongst all the leaves that blanketed their once lush grass. This had gotten rather dangerous over the years, for the snakes had begun hiding beneath forest debris for a nice bite-sized meal to come along looking for their own food. Stiles had been lucky never to encounter such a trap, but a couple of other squirrels in this area hadn't been so fortunate judging by the new neighbors who had moved into suddenly empty hollows.

Therefore, Stiles avoided any nests of leaves and traveled the more barren areas of the forest. He found a couple of camouflaged acorns next to tree roots and half buried in the ground. Normally, Stiles would never dig up someone else's nuts, but if it's exposed to the surface world, then finders keepers! The soil here had kept them saturated with just enough moisture to make an excellent meal. Not spongy, but not teeth-shatteringly hard either.

As he scurried from place to place, his little cheeks already becoming quite engorged with his findings, the squirrel didn't realize how far he had strayed into the deeper part of the woods, nor how much darker it'd gotten with the canopy of the trees thickening as he went. This trail of acorns was just too good to pass up! It's almost as if they were laid out like this on purpose…

The line stopped at a tall, scraggly tree with hardly any leaves left on its pencil-thin twigs. A series of scars stretched along it's smoke-colored trunk, a sign of great age for trees. It looked none too friendly, and Stiles would've gulped in horror if his mouth wasn't so stuffed with nuts.

'_Creepy looking tree,'_ he thought. _'I wonder if anyone lives in it?'_

The gaping hollow near the tree's top didn't look at all comfortable or inviting, and as curious a squirrel as Stiles was, instinct told him that now wasn't the time or place for snooping around.

"Oh man, it's getting dark. Better get outta here before the mountain lions come out." Stiles started heading back in the direction he came from, which was easy to navigate since he'd broken off the stem of the acorns before putting them in his cheeks, leaving a trail for him to follow. In a preserve as spacious as this, it was practically a necessity.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he heard a faint cooing sound from behind. Stiles looked over his shoulder at the spooky tree, eyes wide and fixated on it's hollow. Another "whooo" echoed forth from the opening, and although it sounded peaceful, the smaller critters of the forest all knew it was anything but. It wasn't long before a bright pair of yellow slitted eyes shone through the darkness, focusing directly on Stiles like a couple of search lights.

"Oh dear, little squirrel, you really shouldn't be out here, so alone and so… vulnerable," said a haggard, shriveled voice from the hollow.

Stiles froze in fear. _'Oh nuts. I think I'm in for it now.'_

That voice was none other than the infamous Gerard Owlgent, one of the most lethal birds this side of Beacon Hills Preserve. They said one look into those harvest moon eyes of his could paralyze a squirrel, and the next thing you know…

"You're quite a gullible squirrel, taking my bait so easily." The intimidating owl emerged from his hideaway, massive brown and white wings fluttering out for a moment to get himself balanced on the rim of the hollow. A number of his feathers were either missing or frayed here and there, and Stiles noticed a long gash that arched over his beak and near his eye as if another animal had clawed him there. The owl was not a pretty sight to look at.

"Y-you put these acorns here?!" Stiles squeaked. Oh he knew something seemed fishy! Once again, stomach trumps brain.

"And it worked like a charm, too! It's so much easier to have my food delivered to me nowadays. My old wings are getting tired."

"Soooo then you probably won't want to fly all the way down here just to get scrawny lil' me, right?"

"I said I was old, not an invalid. Besides, judging by how many nuts you have shoved in your cheeks there, I'm betting you have a fair amount of juicy meat on those bones."

"Well, you'll have to catch me first!" Stiles didn't hesitate to make his getaway, bounding through the forest as fast as his little paws could take him.

"Oh, I wouldn't underestimate this old coot if I were you, squirrel."

The owl sprung from his perch and swooped down at a speed unimaginable for such an aged creature, and it took even less time to catch up with his furry prey. Stiles tried weaving back and forth between the trees to lose the owl, but nothing could escape Gerard's keen eye. Just as Stiles thought he should climb up a tree as a last resort (he mentally kicked himself when he remembered the thing chasing him had wings), the feathered foe flattened him underfoot, talons tightening so that the poor squirrel couldn't wriggle his way out. Stiles gasped at the pressure on his back and attempted to struggle, but this only caused Gerard to squeeze harder. There was no way out of this one.

"Now, now, let's not make a fuss. It'll be less painful for all of us if you simply give up."

"Let… go…!" Stiles coughed. He turned enough to see a razor sharp beak merely inches away from his face.

"And lose a potentially good lunch? I'll pass. Any last words?" The owl asked as he pressed one of his talons up against his meal's belly.

"Yeah… have some nuts… on me!" Stiles took a big breath and began shooting acorns out of his mouth at rapid fire pace. They pelted Gerard's face, one managing to hit the bird in his eye, temporarily disorienting the predator as he screeched in frustration.

Stiles took this chance to run away since the owl's hold on him had loosened. Owlgent saw this and brought a claw down to pin the squirrel's tail to the ground, but only managed to rip out a tuft of hair. This didn't stop him, however. With two flaps of his wings, he lifted himself up and did a dive-bomb towards the forest rodent. This time, he'd go straight for the kill.

Stiles heard the sound of ruffling feathers behind him and knew in that instant he wouldn't make it. Looks like his play date with Scotty Dog McCall would have to be put on hold, permanently.

But, the cold talons of death never gripped him. Instead, he heard another sound, more like a roar to be exact, and for a split second Stiles thought he'd encountered a mountain lion to go along with his predator problem. Then he heard Gerard's surprised squawk.

A black wolf had leaped seemingly out of nowhere and tackled Owlgent to the ground. Stiles watched in awe as the fearsome beasts battled it out in a frenzied heap of fur and feathers. The wolf batted at his opponent with deadly claws while Gerard fought back with his hooked beak. It was difficult to get any teeth in when Owlgent was working his wings so spastically, but as soon as the wolf nabbed two of the bird's feathers with his canines, that was the final blow. Gerard had already lost enough of those as it was, and he decided that wrestling with this mangy mutt wasn't worth losing his ability to fly. With an angry shriek, he soared up to the trees and disappeared into their dense canopy, swearing that one day he'd get his revenge.

Squirrelinski blinked. He couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. It wasn't every day that you saw a wolf and an owl duking it out in broad daylight. A sinking feeling entered Stiles' stomach though when he realized that perhaps this creature had simply wanted the squirrel to himself. And to be honest, those fangs of his looked significantly less pleasant than Gerard's beak. Out of the oven and into the frying pan, eh?

"Please, don't eat me!" Nonetheless, a little begging couldn't hurt.

The wolf who'd been nursing a wound on it's paw glanced at the trembling critter and went back to licking. Okay, not the reaction he expected, but better than being instantly gobbled up, right? Now that he got a better look at him though, this guy (or girl, Stiles couldn't tell yet) was rather pretty, with it's shining dark coat and broad chest, although that might just be the fur… Either way, it was a very stunning animal for a carnivore. Stiles couldn't help but be mesmerized.

"Um, Sir, er, or Madame Wolf?" Stiles ventured a bit closer, wondering if the canine had even heard or seen him there. "Helloooo?"

"Do you _want _me to eat you?" The wolf finally spoke in a low, rumbling voice as he turned his attention towards the squirrel.

Stiles was taken aback, finding that there was no malice in the beast's voice, and answered accordingly, "U-uh… no, not really."

"Then go home already. I won't be sticking around to save your tail if a fox comes along."

Stiles knew a fox named Jackson Foxxmore. He wasn't very nice, and if they ever happened to cross paths, the jerk would psyche him out and pretend he was going for him, and then trot off laughing like a hyena. It was a wonder the guy had the adorable Lydia Cottin as a girlfriend. A fox and a bunny? Who'd have thunk?! In truth, though, Stiles would prefer a chance meeting with him over other foxes.

The dark-coated wolf began walking away while Stiles was lost in his thoughts. "Hey, wait! Mister Wolf, I… I just want to know… Why did you rescue me?"

The canine snorted, black nose flaring the tiniest bit. "I wasn't 'rescuing' you. That old bat, Gerard Owlgent, was in wolf territory. I was just giving him a warning."

"Oh…" Stiles said, mildly disappointed.

"And _you're_ trespassing too, so I suggest you go now unless you want the same treatment as him."

"Ah, right. Sorry, I didn't know I'd gotten so far away from my home." The squirrel shuffled his feet and paused before gathering the courage to speak up again. "Umm, thank you, anyway. You know… for saving me, even if you didn't mean to or something."

The beast turned one golden eye on the rodent and muttered a "humph", continuing on his way through the woods without so much as a goodbye.

Wolves could be so rude.

_'Well, today certainly was an adventure,'_ Stiles sighed to himself and figured he should take the canine's advice and start the journey home. There was just one problem…

Meanwhile, the wolf patrolled his surroundings, making sure nothing was amiss. The fight he'd just had left him on edge, so all seven senses were working overtime to make sure the Owlgents weren't planning an ambush or some nonsense like that. It'd happened before, and nearly half his pack were blinded because of it.

So when the wolf felt a sudden tug on his tail, he whirled around with lips snarling and hair raised. What a relief, and somewhat of a let down, it was to see that it was just the scatter-brained squirrel from earlier.

"What do you want?" he growled, not in the mood for games at this point.

Stiles had jumped back, suppressing the urge to flee when the wolf turned on him with all forty-two of those pearly white teeth on display. He calmed his tiny heart and puffed out his own chest to seem less afraid. "I was uhh, just wondering if… I don't know, **maybe**, I could… get a ride home?"

The wolf gave him a deadpanned look. The answer was pretty obvious.

"Please? I'm actually kinda lost. It's getting dark and, like you said, there's gonna be other scary things out here in no time, so could you please please _pleeeease_ lead me out of here? I promise I won't bother you again!" Stiles grabbed his own tail and brought it around to the front, snuggling it like a safety blanket. It was an age old habit of his, but in this case it really helped the cuteness factor. The wolf found his resolve wavering within seconds. Those big watery eyes staring up at him like the world depended on it… Would his conscience be able to take leaving this fluff ball out in the dark all alone?

…

"Fine. Let's go."

"Really?!" Stiles exclaimed as if he thought the wolf would say no for sure. "Thank you so much! Thank you thank you thank you tha-!"

"JUST… Be. Quiet."

"Oh… sure thing!" The squirrel whispered, hopping onto the wolf's back without permission. Normally, the canine wouldn't overlook such a thing, but the guy was 50x smaller than he was. What was the point of threatening such a tiny runt?

"By the way, mister, what's your name? I'm Stiles. Stiles Squirrelinski," he asked while scratching behind his ear with a foot.

"… It's Derek."

"Well, Derek, thanks again."

"I know, you've said that about a million times now," he mumbled.

"Wow, your fur is so soft! I didn't think wolf fur was like this~"

"Don't get too comfortable, bucky. As soon as we get to your neck of the woods I'm kicking you off."

"Wow, you sure are sour, aren't you?"

"Ughh..."

Derek was beginning to regret his generous act of kindness as they loped along the forest, Stiles obviously not making good on his end of the 'silence' deal.


End file.
